Snakeskin
by Flanna
Summary: Warren won't share Andrew's affections with anyone, human or animal. (slash)


Title: Snakeskin  
Author: Flannery Shaw  
Rating: R  
Pairing: Warren/Andrew  
Spoilers: None  
Disclaimers: Andrew, Warren, Jonathan etc all belong to Joss and blah blah blah... you know the deal, I needn't go into detail.  
Feedback: Oh, please! But be nice. I'll love you forever!  
  
* * *  
  
They had a snake once. None of them knew exactly what type it was -- a small python, most likely, a length of shimmery scales kept in a glass box in Warren's basement. They were, however, disappointedly certain that it was simply a snake, with no demonic blood in its veins or tendency toward man-eating: One could never be too careful with one's animals when living on the Hellmouth.  
  
"I wish it was a basilisk." Andrew spent hours laying in front of the glass, head resting on folded arms. "We could set it on the Slayer and it could just look at her and she'd die."  
  
From the couch, Jonathan said, "She could turn to stone. Then we could use it to decorate our lair."  
  
"But it'd be so perfect," Andrew insisted, "Everyone would just be all, oh, another unsolved mystery death on the Hellmouth. Such a shame. Bet those three handsome-yet-evil young men had nothing to do with it."  
  
Jonathan rolled his eyes and turned his full attention to the massive old and crumbling book covering his lap.  
  
Warren delighted in feeding the snake. He'd started with small rabbits, but found that if he stuck to feeding it mice, he was able to do it more often. The little animal's hind legs would kick futilely as its front half was swallowed by the reptile, then the long tail would disappear into its mouth like slow-motion spaghetti. Once, when the others weren't around, Warren had tried experimenting with what other animals the snake would eat. A bird, a frog, a smaller snake, a neighbor's kitten -- it hadn't a craving for any of the creatures, to Warren's disappointment. Perhaps next time, he should starve it a bit.  
  
Andrew watched the animal curl around its little branch. "Maybe it is part demon after all. Its eyes have a demony reddish glint. And it's rather sparkly, isn't it?"  
  
Exasperated sigh from Jonathan. The book closed with a loud thud that made Andrew jump. "Its eyes are not red, they're black."  
  
"No, no, I said a red *glint* - "  
  
"There's no glint. And its scales are sparkly because it just finished shedding its skin on Thursday."  
  
"Yeah, Warren let me have the skin. He's so nice." Andrew shot an adoring glance at Warren.   
  
The snake had long outlived its original purpose. It'd been bought as part of a ritual Jonathan had read about, one that would make the trio temporarily able to sense the body heat of others. Useful when robbing a bank or shoplifting porn, but in retrospect, not practical for busy days on the streets of Sunnydale.  
  
Which didn't matter, because in the end, Jonathan hadn't been able to translate the spell from the Russian dialect it was printed in. So it seemed they had a new pet. Andrew was overjoyed, but mostly in relief that he didn't have to see the snake he'd bonded with get ritualistically sliced and gutted.  
  
When Warren would pass by the cage, he'd often wonder if the snake would eat Jonathan. It ate small mammals. And Jonathan was a small mammal. Killed quickly or maybe kept alive, bound and gagged in his shower stall: The snake was little and would have to be fed pieces of the boy, and the longer he could go without killing Jonathan, the fresher the meat would be.  
  
"We should take him outside." Andrew's beaming face was reflected in the glass of the cage in front of him. He addressed the snake directly: "You'd like that, wouldn't you? The lair's all dark and stuff, and it's warm and sunny out there."  
  
Jonathan grabbed his book and left the lair in a huff, mumbling something about being unable to concentrate. Warren smacked Andrew in the back of the head. "Shut up about that thing, will you? I'm tired of hearing about it."  
  
"Ow!" Andrew aimed a half-assed swat at Warren, which was easily dodged. "Knock it off, retard!"  
  
The snake was nameless, as Andrew had been prohibited from naming it. "Jonathan's just going to kill it," Warren had said, as the boy in front of him winced at the idea. Now that it was more a pet than a sacrifice, he'd become so used to it not having a name that Andrew didn't bother thinking of one.  
  
"I'm tempted to feed the snake Jonathan," Warren said conversationally.  
  
Though the thought was awful, Andrew found himself giggling. He felt Warren's hand come to rest softly on his shoulder. Warren laid down next to him, arm around Andrew's shoulders, soft lips hovering near Andrew's ear. "You stare at that thing so much," he murmured, breath making Andrew shiver, "That I'm beginning to get jealous."  
  
Andrew shifted his weight so he was facing Warren, tilted his head just enough for a gentle kiss. "You're just being silly," he grinned, then kissed Warren again. This time, he sucked Warren's lower lip into his mouth, and Warren responded by nudging at Andrew until he'd guided the boy onto his back.  
  
Without breaking the kiss, Warren rolled on top of Andrew. His hands wandered over Andrew's t-shirt-clad torso, and he pressed his palm flat against Andrew's chest. "You're always here to visit the snake." He'd pulled his mouth from Andrew's, exhaled the words against the smaller boy's lips. "You never come to see me anymore."  
  
"I do!" Andrew protested breathily. "I so do!"  
  
The small animal had become the target of Warren's resentment. He was a jealous man, and loathed sharing Andrew's affections with a stupid reptile. Sometimes, he'd peek through a black veil of lashes as they kissed, and he'd see Andrew's eyes open and shifting uncomfortably toward the snake's cage.  
  
"Oh! Warren!" It came out half moaned, half giggled, and he ran his tongue over the bite mark on Andrew's shoulder.   
  
As Warren's long fingers slid beneath the waistband of Andrew's jeans, the smaller boy arched up with a hissed inhalation of breath. "Warren... War..." He was panting, practically, but then squirmed away from the touch. "Let's go to your bed." Eyes shifted again toward the cage, and Warren's dark eyes narrowed.  
  
"No," he said curtly, then more seductively added, "I don't think I can make it. Not with you looking so ravishing." He punctuated the statement with a soft squeeze of Andrew's erection.  
  
Andrew whimpered and bit down on his bottom lip. "I don't feel *right* about doing this here," he whispered, trying to give Warren his best big-eyed puppy face. "It's like ... like it's watching us."  
  
For a moment, Andrew was frightened by the dark look on Warren's face. Then Warren rose to his feet and growled, "Fine. We'll go to my bed."  
  
The snake's short life in the lair was pleasant, full of plump rodents and sleeping in the large, soft front pocket of Andrew's sweatshirt. Its cage was kept clean and warm. Attention was showered on the reptile, and it became a sort of mascot as the three plotted their takeover of Sunnydale.  
  
Warren only tolerated its presence for so long because Andrew so adored the little animal.  
  
One day, it died.  
  
"I'm so sorry, Andrew." Warren's arms were around him and Andrew had collapsed sobbing against his chest. Tears left damp charcoal circles on Warren's gray t-shirt. "I just woke up this morning, and he was dead."  
  
This wasn't a lie, exactly, because its neck had been broken the night before.  
  
"But he couldn't die!" Andrew's voice was choked with tears. "I was so good to him."   
  
The lair seemed cold and stagnant without the reptile around. Jonathan had simply frowned at the news, then helped dig the animal's grave. But Andrew was inconsolable; he wouldn't move from the couch, where he lay curled in a ball, hugging Warren's pillow.  
  
Warren knelt before him, brushed messy blond hair from the boy's forehead. "Are you doing okay, love?"  
  
Andrew shook his head but leaned into the touch.  
  
"Think of it this way." Warren rested his cheek against Andrew's hair and lowered his voice. "He may have only been alive for a short time, but you made that time really nice."  
  
"Thanks," rasped the blond. Warren could actually see tears welling up in Andrew's eyes, then leaking down his cheeks as the boy tried to blink them away.  
  
He bent his head, kissed Andrew's wet face and continued, "You loved it so much, I bet it made death and everything worth it."  
  
"Oh Warren," Andrew sighed. He threw his arms around the dark haired boy and buried his face in Warren's neck.  
  
None of them remembered where the animal was buried. Now, Andrew never thinks about the snake, hardly remembered how devastated he'd been over its death. But back home in a closet, stacked amongst his comic books and Tucker's baseball cards, he still has the snakeskin, wrapped delicately in tissue paper and set in a shoebox. It was the most personal gift Warren had ever given him.   
  
* * * 


End file.
